Triste poème
by Alium
Summary: Alex just came back from Kenya and to a normal life when a serial killer began hunting in London. With Tom's life on the line, will Alex be able to give up his normalcy and become a true agent?
1. Chapter 1

**Triste Poème…**

Disclaimer : Alex Rider is owned by Anthony Horowitz.

Summary : Alex just came back from Kenya and to a normal life when a serial killer began hunting in London. With Tom's life on the line, will Alex be able to give up his normalcy and become a true agent?

His back was throbbing in a painful staccato. He opened his eyes, giving up trying to sleep. With a sigh, he observed his room. White walls, white drapes, white bed… White, white, white. You could never have guessed that he was in a hospital room... He came back from his last mission only two days ago and he was already utterly bored. Not that he wanted to go back to MI6. It was just difficult to run on adrenaline one moment and be immobilized in a bed without anything to do the next. If he could never go on a mission again it would be too soon. He was fed up with it. Fed up of the pain. Fed up of looking into Death's eyes again and again. Fed up of never knowing when –if- he would be back home. But most of all he was fed up of becoming dependant of this life. Because he could be angry all he wanted, the truth was that he was not a normal schoolboy anymore. A normal schoolboy would not always be checking his surroundings, keeping an eye on a possible attack. A normal schoolboy would not be more at ease among soldiers than with his teenage –so young, so innocent, so naive- friends. A normal schoolboy would not feel so world weary. His normal life just seemed so bleak compared to his MI6 activities. Like a white and black paint which had his colours siphoned bit by bit. Alex Rider was dying, replaced by Agent Rider. And he hated that. Because soon he would want to do what MI6 wanted. He needed to quit before that happened. He just did not know how. When Mrs Jones came to debrief him, she told him that the new Prime Minister wished MI6 to stop using him until he was sixteen years old. It meant that he had a year to find a solution. And a little part of him, which was growing stronger after each mission was treacherously whispering in his mind : "If he wanted to find a solution...". Closing his eyes, Alex Rider, super teenage spy, cursed and blessed by Lady Luck, felt into Morpheus' embrace.

Six months later Alex was suffering in silence the dull voice of his History teacher. The first two months were spent working on his different school subjects until he finally caught up in all of his classes. Afterward it became a goal of his to find a mean to satisfy his adrenaline-addicted mind. He learnt Russian and Japanese. He took martial art classes each day after school. And the weekend he trained his shooting. Either with a bow or with a gun. Anything to occupy his mind. And if he chose activities which would serve him well on a mission... Denial is not only a river in Egypt.

In boredom, his gaze strayed to the window and the freedom that it symbolizes to all students. A police car was doing its patrol in the street below. It was a remainder of the danger which was running free in London. A serial killer. The media were publicizing each of his murder in morbid details. Soon He became infamous. And everyone was waiting each evening in front of their telly, waiting for the news and praying that if the police found a new body it would be a stranger and not a friend. In the last three months alone sixteen corpses were found, each one having been tortured to death. And each one carrying in what remained of their hands a letter in which was written a poem. The last one was "L'Albatros" from Baudelaire. The beauty of the poem was tainted with the blood of the crime scene and the terror deforming the face of the victim. The killer was unoriginally named "the Poet". Alex thought that the media were only terrorising the people and adding to the sense of accomplishment that the killer must be feeling.

Scratching the white scar on the back of his hand, he couldn't help but think about what this psychopath must be like and compare him to those from his experience. Usually his madmen were megalomaniac whom didn't care a bit about who would die in their way to their success. This one was different. He was killing for the sake of killing. Not for money. Not because the victim was an inconvenience. Just because the Poet wanted to kill -and obviously could do it without being caught- he did it. In a way the like of Damien Cray, Grief, Sayle, Sarov and Major Yu seemed kind of sane. Or at least way saner than the serial killer. And what a daunting thought it was. Alex shuddered. He crossed his fingers and prayed that he will never find himself face to face with the Poet.

One week later Alex was lying on his bed listening music when his phone rang. Putting away his earphones, he took a moment to admire his new Iphone. It was a present from Mr Smithers. He was his only friend in MI6 and a true genius. Smithers was the "gadget-man" in MI6. And his creations had saved his life numerous times in one way or another. Obviously his Iphone was not a normal phone. He could use it like a phone but he could also send an emergency alert to Mr Smithers if he found himself in some trouble. All he had to do was pressing the button 7 five times. And if he typed 654 he could use it as a shock gun. It was neat.

With a smile, Alex answered the call. It was Tom's mother. Tom Harris was his best friend and with Sabina the only one of his age group who knew about his missions. His parents were always fighting and Tom was in the middle of their little war. But recently the Harris parents divorced and now Tom was living with his mother. Alex wondered what Mrs Harris wanted from him.

"Alex? Is Tom with you?"

"No Mrs Harris. I'm sorry but the last time I saw him was in front of the school three hours ago. Why?"

"He didn't come back home. He always is on time after school if only because he is famished after a long school day... I'm worried. Call me if you know anything, okay?"

"I will. Bye Mrs Harris."

"Bye Alex."

He too was worried. It was unlike Tom to disappear like that. Alex got up from his bed and, taking his jacket and a bag which was under his bed, made his way downstairs. The bag contained some gadgets that he had saved from his missions. It could be useful you never know with the Po... The Poet! Alex swore and hurried in the kitchen where Jack was baking a chocolate cake. If this serial killer was the reason of Tom disappearance... But no, he could not think like that. Taking a deep breath, Alex turned toward Jack.

"Jack, Tom didn't come back home. I will go and retrace his steps. Maybe I will find a clue of where he is..."

"Did you try to call him?"

"He broke his phone yesterday. It slipped from his pocket and someone step accidentally on it."

"Ouch. Be careful, okay? With the serial killer..."

"I will, promise."

He knew that Jack was worried about him but since his missions she didn't really try to act as a parental figure. More like a sister. She knew that he had always been alone on these missions and he had faced things that she couldn't comprehend. So she correctly assumed that if he could take care of himself in the middle of nowhere half way across the world, he could take care of himself in his own town. With a reassuring smile, Alex went to the door and let himself out.

He let go of his bike when he arrived at his school. He would have a better chance at finding a clue if he was on foot. After fruitlessly walking for half an hour under the pouring rain of an English evening, Alex was ready to scream in frustration. In an angry move born from his growing despair, he violently kicked a rock which was laying at his feet. The projectile flew through the air and landed near a tree. Still needing an outlet to his anger, Alex went to the rock wanting to kick it again. His foot was nearly in contact with his target when he saw something. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alex bent down until his face was nearly against the bark of the tree. There. A red liquid. Blood. And right at the height where Tom's head would be. Alex knew. After all it was only yesterday when he was teasing his best friend about his smaller height. He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and to have a clear head. Now he knew –by another incredible stroke of luck- where Tom had been abducted from. Because, let's face it, his best friend did not run away. Grimacing, Alex typed a number on his phone.

"Mr Smithers?"

"Alex! My dear boy! What can I do for you?"

"One of my friend disappeared. I need the CCTV feed of Lamont Road from three to four hours ago."

"Right. I'm sending them to you. Be careful old chap!"

"I will. Bye Mr Smithers. And thanks."

"Do not thank me yet. And anyway, I know that you can hack into the CCTV feed, it will just be faster that way."

Alex hang up, a strained laugh passing his lips. One of the most useful skills that he learnt in Malagosto was hacking. And after his little trip in the Scorpia training centre, Mr Smithers chose to help him finish this part of his training. Now, he just needed a computer. With a determined look, Alex went back home. He would find Tom. And if he was hurt... Well, his captor would see just how much of an agent Alex Rider was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Triste Poème…**

Disclaimer : Alex Rider is owned by Anthony Horowitz.

Summary : Alex just came back from Kenya and to a normal life when a serial killer began hunting in London. With Tom's life on the line, will Alex be able to give up his normalcy and become a true agent?

**II**

Once he was back in his room, Alex placed himself comfortably in front of his computer. For all he knew it would take a long time to find something. Chewing nervously on his lower lip, the young spy checked his mailbox. There. He had found the mail from Smithers. Now if only it could contain something of interest... He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. This one and only link was his sole clue to rescue his best friend. With a shaking hand, Alex opened the mail.

Half an hour later his anxiousness had disappear, replaced by a growing frustration. How many more mothers leading crying brats in the street could he bear before exploding? Where was Tom? Where was his bloody clue? Growling, Alex opened a new feed. A family walking. A dog running behind his owner. Two girls chattering and giggling. A beautiful blue car going far faster than what was allowed. Tom brooding... Wait. Tom! Some part of his mind made a childish dance of victory while the majority of his brain focused on the screen. His eyes darkened and took a cold, predatory look. He observed a black car stop ahead of his friend, near the tree. In a moment it was finished. When Tom was on the car level the front door violently opened and a fist targeted his best friend's cheek. His head met the bark of the tree and he collapsed. Like a puppet cut from his strings. A young man looking every inch like the typical gangster left the car and took Tom. The car left.

An angry fire cursed through his veins. This man will pay. His instinct was telling him that the gangster was only hired help but at the moment it didn't matter to him. He only wanted to leave the face of this man with enough bruises that even his mother wouldn't recognize him. He needed to calm himself before he made an anger-induced mistake. His best friend's life was on the line.

Alex closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly. A breath. He exhaled. Again. And again. And again. He pictured a flame growing between his eyes. This was a method of relaxation that he learned at Malagosto. When he opened his eyes they were cold and his mind was clear. Clear and sharp. The hunt could begin.

With a smirk Alex began the not-so-long-for-him process of hacking into the police's database. He first checked the black car's license plate. It was not a surprise when it turned out to being a stolen car. Next, he compared the face of his prey with those in the data. It took a long time but he finally found something. Andrew Davies. Twenty two years old. Drop out. Unemployed. Involved in gangs. Typical gang thug.

Well, it was obvious that he didn't organize the kidnapping alone. In fact he wasn't even the stolen car's driver. If he was to follow his instinct, Alex would say that the entire gang was hired in this operation. And he didn't have the time to not follow his instinct. After all if someone was to pay the different gangs in London to do his kidnapping for him... It would be that much more difficult to find who was behind the disappearances. Alex groaned. His enemy had the audacity of being clever. Why could he not have for once a stupid opponent? Well... Maybe Tom had really been kidnapped by Andrew and it would be simple to retrieve him. Somehow Alex couldn't even begin to believe that.

Humming, Alex began to retrieve all the information contained in the police's database concerning the gang. They called themselves the "Red Tigers" and had a dozen members. All young, unintelligent, with no future and drug problems. Their territory was not far from his house. With some luck, he could be there before they gave his friend away. Alex effaced all traces of his hacking and turned off his computer. He shot from his chair and ran down the stairs, taking his bag full of gadgets on his way.

It only took him twenty minutes to arrive at destination. It was an abandoned warehouse with broken windows and ivy growing on the walls. You could hear music inside and voices shouting with unrestrained glee. Alex headed for one of the windows situated in the back. Sharp shards of glass were on the edge. Like broken teeth rotting in the open mouth of a predator. With a smirk, Alex put his vest across the window. It would protect him against this first obstacle.

Once inside and his vest on his back, Alex stealthily made his way toward the noise. He stayed in the shadows and walked without a sound. He was a hunter stalking his prey. He was a wolf on a hunt. He was Alex Rider. And he was getting back his best friend.

His path led him to a large room where the gang was drinking and fighting. He waited for one of the fighter to land a last punch in the jaw of his opponent -and thereby attract the attention of the entire room- before making his way into the place. He sat down behind a large wooden box and listened.

One of the gang members was waving in a drunken manner a beer bottle, shouting something.

"I toold you it was a good dia.. ida... idea.. Just had to take some brat and give him... and... already finished... rich now!"

He was speaking about Tom. No doubt about it. Now if they could tell him where on earth he was it would be nice. Unfortunately they were only congratulating themselves about the fact. Or speaking about girls. Well... prostitutes really. And was it even possible to bend that way? The guy had to be lying through his teeth. Alex coughed. He should try to not be distracted. Damn hormones.

After waiting more than his patience could bear, Alex decided that enough was enough. He had to find a way to isolate one of the men and then he could... convince him to tell him what he wanted. First he needed to choose who would be his victim. With a smirk Alex spotted dear Andrew not far from his hiding place. For once Fate was with him. His prey was drinking rather heavily and his hazy eyes were telling him that if he were to pass out nobody would be surprise. Alex would just hasten the fact really. With a wide smile he took one of his gadgets from his bag. It was a Harry Potter book with which he could send a tranquilizer dart. Smithers had recharged the book for him after his Point Blanc mission. Alex owed him so much. He pointed the book toward his target and activated it. Noiselessly a dart flew through the air and into Andrew's thigh. A moment later he was out. Now, Alex just needed to find a mean to get the others out. What could he use... A devious glint appeared in his eyes when he spotted the origin of the music. Two low-quality speakers. And there was a lot of alcohol bottles not far away.

Alex made his way toward the bottles, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It was hard to move undetected in a room full of foes and nearly empty of hiding places but he managed. When he was near the bottles he took one and opened it. He poured a line of alcohol from the bottles to the speakers and made his way back. There, he stole another bottle and distanced himself from the place full of alcohol. Once he was far enough he waited until nobody had their attention on the speakers and threw his bottle. Then he made his way as fast as possible to his first hiding place. He didn't need to look to know that his bottle made a graceful arc through the air and landed on the speakers. He was already near the wooden box when he heard the explosion. And the surprised shouts of the gang. Then he heard another explosion. The fire had made a beeline toward the alcohol bottle. Then, it was the panic. The warehouse was taking fire, everyone was shouting, screaming, running toward the exit. And finally they were gone. Alex ran to Andrew's body and dragged him out of the room. The smoke was horrible and the fire reminded Alex of his last mission. He was incredibly relived when he arrived at the window through which he entered less than an hour ago. He threw the body out of the window and jump fast after him and away from the fire. He hurt his hands with the shards of glass in the process but it was worth it.

Alex half-carried and half-dragged Andrew toward a group of tree which would shield him from unwanted gazes. Though, the place was remote enough and it was late enough to not need any precaution. Once there, Alex began tying his prisoner's hands and feet with his own shirt and vest. It was a little cold but Andrew would soon not care about it. Now, Alex had killed before. Numerous times. But he knew that he could not torture. He drew a line at it. He could never do that. So, he just needed to frighten him enough. Fortunately for him, Andrew was not a professional and had probably never been in this kind of situation. The fact that he was drunk and had just been tranq helped. Humming an upbeat song, Alex began to prepare his act.

Twelve minutes later Andrew was waking from his induced sleep. The first thing he realized was the typical heavy smell of a fire. The second thing was that he was lying on humid grass. The water was uncomfortably seeping through his pants. The third thing was that he was tied and gagged. It was then that he began to panic and opened his eyes hurriedly. The fire was painting the sky in orange and black smoke was filling the air. He could hear far away the sound of the firemen. He sat down and observed his surroundings. He was in a middle of a group of trees. And in front of him was a man, dressed in jeans and a vest. A hood was obscuring his features. And in his hands... Andrew's eyes bulged out. The fucker was holding a knife! The edge of the weapon was reflecting the orange light of the fire and attracting attention to its sharpness. Andrew swallowed. He was thoroughly fucked.

Alex watched with a wicked gleam in his eyes the terror of his victim. Tom's abductor. It was only payback. The guy didn't even seem to realize that it was his knife in the hands of his captor. Though, now it was Alex's. He would probably need it more than Andrew. Speaking of the knife... The teenage spy was playing with it. He juggled with it, making sure that his prey's gaze was on it the entire time. The man was growing paler every second as he witnessed the skill with which Alex handled the blade. When his terror was at its peak, Alex whispered. In the silence of the night Andrew could hear him perfectly. And he could not guess that he was sitting at the feet of a teenager and not of a man when he was speaking in a whisper.

"Tell me everything you know about the kidnapping of the schoolboy. If you do I will free you. If you don't, well... It had been such a long time since I last killed someone..."

It was true. It just didn't mean that he wanted to kill again. But Andrew didn't know that. And he was clearly panicking. His eyes were growing larger and his skin took an unhealthy green hue. He nodded desperately. Alex crouched down near his head and slowly used the knife to cut through the gag.

It was his first interrogation. On this side anyway.

Let's the game begin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Triste Poème…**

Disclaimer : Alex Rider is owned by Anthony Horowitz.

Summary : Alex just came back from Kenya and to a normal life when a serial killer began hunting in London. With Tom's life on the line, will Alex be able to give up his normalcy and become a true agent?

Thanks for the reviews! :D

**III**

Andrew's face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear. The lights from the fire burning farther away gave him an unnatural gauntness. A part of Alex's mind couldn't help but find him pathetic. A weak drunk man. Realistically, Alex knew that it was his view of the world which was different from the average British citizen. His experiences had tainted him until he couldn't control his impulse to analyze everybody in his vicinity. He analyzed their levels of dangerousness, their behavior, their strength of mind… And he got used to people like Alan Blunt, Mrs. Jones, Wolf, Ben, Yassen, Rothman, Yu, Dr. Three, Nile… Each one of them was strong in a different way. And compared to someone like Andrew… Well, the gang member seemed to lack something. Like a strong mind. After all he broke so easily… Alex was disgusted. And what did it say about him? Was he so changed that seeing a man cower when tied and faced to a seemingly dangerous man shrouded by mystery brought only disgust? And amusement. Amusement at playing the bad guy for once. Amusement at frightening Andrew with empty threats. Dark amusement at the knowledge that it was only the beginning for him. Andrew could walk away from this but Alex… Alex would always be chained to his destiny. Chained by blood. Chained by experience. Chained by his own self. Because he could deny it with all his stubbornness but it was his life. He never felt as alive as when he was on a mission. He just couldn't go back to a normal life after everything. Not when he just needed to look into a mirror to see his scars and the darkness lurking in the depth of his eyes. But he would deny it a while longer. The teenager in him would not accept to die without a fight. A long fight preferably. Enough to cause trouble for MI6 each step of the way when they will come for him. He smiled cockily at the idea. He just loved annoying Blunt.

A sharp intake of breath brought back his attention to his prisoner. The man swallowed and spoke hurriedly, afraid of displeasing his captor.

"Yesterday we found a package in front of the door of our place. It contained a picture of a teenager with a short note and an envelope. Inside the envelope was a hundred pounds. The message said that if we kidnapped the little guy we would get twice that in return. It said where we would need to capture him and when."

Yesterday… So they didn't have the time to really think about the offer. And greedy as they were… Growling, Alex continued to interrogate Andrew.

"Where did you bring the teenager? And who hired you?"

"We had to take him to a private airport just outside London. There was someone there, waiting for us. But he had sunglasses and a hat so I can't describe him to you. And he just took the boy and left with him on a plane. I am sorry, I don't know more… Please, I don't know more… We just received the payment in the same way and I don't know who it was…"

The man was beginning to babble, giving him the address of the airport, clearly frightened that what he knew was not enough to save his life. Alex sighed. He needed to check the airport and he needed to do it now. When he would be there he could track the plane if he managed to hack in the airport's computers. What a mess. It could not have been a simple kidnapping, couldn't it?

With the speed and the accuracy of a viper striking its prey, the teenager knocked out Andrew with a swift punch on his temple. No time for subtlety. And maybe he was feeling a little vindictive toward his best friend's kidnapper. Though just a little. And if he punched him harder than what was necessary… He could put the blame on his high levels of stress. Right.

Alex took the tube to the station nearest to the airport. But he couldn't go there by foot. It would be too slow and he was short on time. For all he knew Tom was already dead or in the process of losing his mind if he was tortured… Stop. He had to keep a clear mind and for that he needed to take care of the problems as they come and not add imaginary situations in the mix.

So… he was short on time, and all he had with him were his trainers… And his skills at hotwiring a car. He would just edit this part of his adventure when he would be interrogated by Jack. After all ignorance is bliss… And he didn't want to be grounded until the end of the term because he stole a car to save his best friend. After all sometimes you needed to do some terrible things for the greater good. And it was not because he had always wanted to drive an aston martin and one of them was conveniently just in front of him. A beautiful sleek black car. With an eagerness not hidden, Alex began the fast process of breaking into the car, deactivating the alarm in the same time, and then hotwiring the car. With a huge smile, Alex drove the aston martin toward the airport. After all when you have no other choice but to do something illegal you must do it with class.

It didn't take long to reach a place near the airport where Alex could leave the car without it being seen. The teenager left the car with a mournful look, already sad at the separation with the aston martin. Well, at least this adventure would leave him with a great memory. He made his way toward the main building of the airport, glad that the night improved his chance of remaining unnoticed. He moved stealthily toward a back door with his ears wide opened, trusting his sense of hearing over his vision in the dark. It only took him a few moments to pick the lock of the door. Well, if the life of an agent didn't agree with him he could always become a thief. Not.

Once inside he made his way toward a map placed on the wall which showed the exits in case of an emergency. Fortunately it also showed where the control room was situated. Now, he just had to go there without being seen by the guards or by the cameras. Fun.

His eyes were flickering around, noticing where each of the cameras was and his mind was working furiously to determine their blind spot. He walked cautiously toward his destination, staying where he wouldn't be noticed. He danced with the shadows, sometimes walking not far from a guard. He was lucky. The guards were few and tired. And his stealth was great. His modesty too.

Finally, after nearly dying of a heart attack when a guard grazed him, he found himself in the control room. He just had one tiny problem. There were two men in the room, nursing a cup of tea and speaking in low tones, obviously tired. Or bored out of their minds. Probably the latter. They didn't even notice when the door opened to admit a blond teenager. Neither did they notice it closed behind him without a sound. Though they did notice the pain of a dart in their arms. They only had the time to look at it with an incredulous look before the drug took effect. They were his last darts but it was necessary. And fastest that way.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to hack into the main computer. Once there he narrowed his search to the planes which departed in the late afternoon. Thankfully it was a private airport and there were only two planes concerned. One to France and the other to Spain. His instinct told Alex that Tom was neither in France nor in Spain. But… if someone wanted to hide any clue they would just had to make a stop on their way. Nobody would be the wiser that the plane had dropped off something on its way. So he just needed to narrow his search.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Alex went with the worst possible situation in his mind. If the Poet was behind the kidnapping of his best friend… He needed to check the data in the computer and compare it to the dates of the last kidnappings. It only took him ten minutes to find that the plane going to Spain had taken off each day of a kidnapping. Shit.

Alex called Smithers and asked him to find the owner of the plane. Ten minutes later Smithers called him back.

"Hello old chap. I have your information. It was not easy. The plane is owned by a Mr. Smith but I checked and found that he earned a lot of money each day after one of the kidnapping. The money is from a Mr. Davy but if you look a little bit deeper you will find that it is a fake identity. Thankfully he paid with this identity something on the web a few years ago and there was an address which leads to a manor situated on the way of the plane toward Spain. The manor is owned by a very rich man. Taylor Morris. He is a billionaire. His father was a famous actor and his mother the daughter of a noble family with old money and he inherited a lot of it. He has ties with some really powerful political men and women. Not enough proof to incriminate such a powerful man but if you find that he really is the Poet… Call for help."

"I will. Thanks."

He hanged up.

Time for some action.

_Well… do you want a story with more action or is it okay like that? And the size of the chapters? Are they too short? And my biggest insecurity… How is my English? I think I need a Beta… ^^ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Triste Poème…**

Disclaimer : Alex Rider is owned by Anthony Horowitz.

Summary : Alex just came back from Kenya and to a normal life when a serial killer began hunting in London. With Tom's life on the line, will Alex be able to give up his normalcy and become a true agent?

_Sorry, I am ashamed to say that I forgot completely to update this story. *blush* I promise I will try to write the next chapter soon! _

**IV**

Two hours.

It has been now two hours. Two hours filled by the howl of the freezing wind of a British night. Two hours spent lying in the humid grass getting slowly drenched by the cold water pouring from the sky. Two hours which had severely tested his patience.

-Tom, when I find you I will kick your arse. It was a stupid idea to get kidnapped. You could have spent your evening doing some sport or playing a stupid game on your X box... But nooo you had to fill your night with some adventure...

Stopping his muttering, Alex concentrated on his observation of the movements of the video cameras perched on the wall surrounding the manor. There were a lot of them. That could have been explained by the owner being paranoid. But if he didn't already suspected the billionaire this reasoning would have soon been shattered by the numerous guards circling the house. They were armed to the teeth and they had dogs. Big dogs with a vicious gleam glowing in their dark eyes. They were always walking by group of three with one dog. And they kept the team in front of them in their vision at all times.

Alex groaned. Getting inside would not be easy. And he didn't even know about the security inside the wall. With his luck it would be worse than the one outside. Biting his lip the teenager tried to think of a solution. Well that was not exactly true. He already had a solution. He just really wanted to find another. One which would not give him hypothermia. It would be sad if he was to die before even getting inside the manor.

Unfortunately he didn't have the time to find an alternative solution. Gritting his teeth, Alex eyed the river in front of him with apprehension. This river was crossing the manor. It was probably a very pretty sight to admire inside the garden but it was also a breach in the security. Well it would not be if Alex was an adult. But he was thin enough to pass between the bars replacing the wall where the river was entering the manor. At least he hoped so.

The only problem was the cameras. The water would mess with the dog's smell so he would not be discovered. And the night took care of the guards' vision if he was discreet enough. But if he was not careful he would be seen by the cameras. The only solution to his problem would be to stay submerged in the dark and freezing water when he approached the zone where the cameras would be able to see him. So if he didn't die from hypothermia he would drown. Joy.

Alex crawled in the wet grass until he could feel the ground become sand. And rocks. Hard rocks which were digging into his stomach. He was not far from the river and way too close from the wall for his taste. But the closer he was to the wall before diving into the water and the less distance he would have to swim. The less time he would spend in the water and the happier he would be.

Alex waited until the guards were far enough to not see the ripples he would create when entering the river. When the moment came he dived.

And swore long and hard in his mind. It was not cold. It was freezing.

He swam in the dark until he saw the dark shape of the wall approaching. And then he took a deep breath and dived. Alex used a powerful crawl to get closer to the bars. He could not see them, it was too dark. But he felt them when he banged his head against one. This was one thing he would omit from his tell when he will be back home. Way too embarrassing.

Feeling the space around him with his hands he managed to find two bars. Now he just needed to squeeze between them.

Five seconds later he found himself stuck. His lungs were beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen and he could feel the lethargy beginning to take control of his legs and arms because of the cold. He needed to get out. Now.

Putting one hand on each bar he pushed with all of his strength fuelled by his desperation. And slowly, inches by inches he managed to unstuck himself. He didn't lose any time and furiously swam away from the wall. When he felt that he was far enough away he emerged from the water. He tried to be discreet but his lungs needed the oxygen and so he took a great breath. And hoped nobody heard him.

Turning his head around him he observed the place. It was a garden filled with flowers, trees and artistically positioned benches and statues. They were no cameras in sight. He could get out of the water. Finally.

Once outside the water Alex turned blue. The wind was freezing! He cursed with all his might the river. Whatever it was called before he renamed it Hell. Shivering, the boy began his walk toward the manor looming ahead.

He found it strange that there were no more guards and video cameras around. He had a bad feeling... From his previous experience with billionaires they liked to go overboard with everything. And when he thought about the tight security surrounding the manor he didn't think there was nothing keeping an eye on the gardens. So when he began to hear the growls he wasn't surprised. Nor was he happy when he saw the origin of these terrific sounds. But at least he wasn't taken aback by it.

After all McCain had his crocodiles, Rothman owned a tiger, Sayle possessed a giant Portuguese Man o'War. Well, Taylor Morris was the proud owner of a Grizzly Bear. An obviously hungry and angry bear. Alex gulped. Time to flee.

And flee he did. He ran as fast as his legs could go. And then he ran even faster. The young spy could hear the Monster chasing him getting closer and closer. So he did the only thing he could think of at the time. He jumped onto a white bench and from there he jumped onto a statue. It was a big statue of a horse-rider. He was standing on the back of the horse. He quickly climbed onto the man riding the horse and found himself trying to keep his balance on the statue's head. From there he could access a tree's branch which was looming high above the ground. He threw a victorious smile at the dejected bear. Alex-1 Grizzly-0.

One good thing resulting from this little hunt was the fact that he was not cold anymore. He would not die from hypothermia.

After having rested a bit Alex began to climb the tree. While the bear was chasing him the teen made sure he was hunted toward the manor and not away from it. It was a good thing because if he could climb on the highest branch he would be able to jump onto a narrow balcony. It would be a delicate thing to do but if he did it right he would have a chance at accessing the manor.

Once he was on the branch he closed his eyes, counted to three and jumped. Unfortunately the balcony was a bit further than he thought and he found himself hanging with one hand on the edge of the balcony. He chanced a glance toward the ground. Yep. If he fell he would be a bloody mess. With a tortured groan he managed to climb onto the balcony. His arms were shivering uncontrollably from the strain he put them under. He needed to catch his breath before going on.

A few minutes later he was able to walk toward the windows. They were closed. It was during these moments that he was thanking Ian. He knew how to open closed windows. And closed doors. He was a kind of burglar. Expect instead of thieving objects he stole information. Shaking his head Alex got back to work. In a few minutes the windows were opened and he entered the manor.

The spy closed soundlessly the windows behind him and observed his surroundings. The cameras were back in the game. He needed to be careful to not be caught on one of them.

The manor was big and a real maze of corridors. After an hour of aimless walk Alex was beginning to become fed up of the statues, the paints, the flowers... They were everywhere. And quite useful to hide under or behind when a guard was in the vicinity but... he nearly sneezed each time he had to hide behind the flowers. And he would be damned if he got caught because of a sneeze!

He entered a nth room. It was a beautiful room but after the first dozen he was not interested anymore by all the luxury. He was checking a big fireplace when he heard a guard come into the room. Quickly he hid in the chimney, jumping and putting his back to one wall while his feet were on the other one. He would not be seen by anybody entering.

The guard checked the room during a couple of minutes before leaving. Relived that he didn't have to play the monkey too long Alex jumped back onto the ground. Fortunately there was no fire in the hearth so he didn't burn himself. But as he was trying to get out of the fireplace he walked on a part of the place where there were no pieces of wood. Only a strange blazon. He didn't have the time to examine the curious carving when the ground moved.

Panicked Alex raised his head and saw that he was descending. The ground of the fireplace was a platform which was leading somewhere downstairs. It was so... So... Cliché! Alex snorted. Here he was getting in a place where for all he knew armed guards were waiting for him and he found the situation cliché. He seriously needed to see a shrink.

Soon only darkness surrounded him.

The spy gulped.

Now, he was apprehensive.

_I would be extremely thankful if you could point me what I need to improve in this story. It is the first time I try to write in English something longer than a hundred words so I am probably quite clumsy in my attempt. _

_Thanks for your reviews! :D_


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